Friday, November 30, 2007

Hangover so not even funny.Sex with a French guybut I was too drunk.Scratch that now eating last nighthaze. If you don’t mind that would be great.Wanting to go to bed tosleep a fish in other offices to boot I mean.Now eating in my future. I can’t die.Give me another morning to sleep with. Sure. Yes.As long as it gets communicated that’s great.To regroup in general.General Annette.General Geneva.Dad I cried for a long time last nightafter the French boy left. I forget that I am sometimes regarded as a poet.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

There’s plenty yet to say and even more to repeatover and over in whichever fashion is currentlyfashionable (not at all). Suddenly I don’t feelso good, headache and disorientation over apesto penne salad. Possibly from moving aroundpedestal drawers on Saturday. Or carrying themonitor. I didn’t really do much, so this isno good. Really out of sorts. Woke up with abackache, too. Could it be from Jean’s radiowhich was totally cranked? At one pointthere was that PLUS some horrible “on hold”music going on at once. Or the Nutri-Grainbars for breakfast, one blueberry and onestrawberry?

Friday, November 23, 2007

i want to do some more to you.i can’t tell you what i am doingor at least make you understandbut this is what i am doing.poem language is complicated.i am speaking a different languagecommunicating to you here.communication is complicated too.for example you are hereare you here? can you hear mei am here do i promise you that? i do.right now i had a couplemargaritas and met jerrythe bartender then i went homeand read another chapter.we dream now. the hunkypunky evil twin of the sweet kitteni dream of is now. are you dreaming too a couple odd fellas?this gets so intense can youfeel it? sure tell me you mean it.he just realized his last name. leave it like this do not question it we talked okay and hey understood each other right? for example you are hereare you here? can you hear mei am here? i do promise you that.a dog in the pants is worth two in the bone.

Monday, November 19, 2007

i wantthree hours of poetry while these guys are in a meetingall the way to lunch, i got their muffins and scones andcoffee and they are in a cage until noon, yes, also,once again, i’m in an airplane, probably over the rockieswhere we just found a little turbulence.

slam one dayright on top of another, a misunderstood chronologylike my hometown.

the parade to potts with squad cars and fire station salutewas a nice send-up and where he was put was so perfectnestled next to the old cattle pasture and if you stand right thereyou can see his land, the mountain.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Picked up at the Dallas Airport. Messed around with income taxon the front porch. Keep thinking about how glad I amI talked with him on Thursday night becauseI’d gone to the allergist. He said I sounded

a scratch on my wedding finger

horrible. I told him what I was allergic to & he offered thatI shouldn’t do shots – I’d mentioned the doc said that shots would bea last resort if the pills didn’t work. He actually asked about

which I had from Ginger via e-mail. About fish.When I called last it was the morning Aunt Wilma diedand Dad had gone to his pond to feed the fish. I asked

the haze between here and Oakland

if he still had his 4-wheeler and he said that’s about all he had left(after the auction of his farm stuff). He said the docs saidhis lungs looked better, that he still felt weak, and they were still trying to wean him off the

rush to the restroom

prednisone. And he was still having couging problems(he coughed a bit when I first started talking with him).I don’t remember anything else, except that I did something I

a paper cup filled with cool water

had rarely done recently which is I told him I love him.He said I love you too Del. Friday I went to the doctor for a cough. “I keep doing it again most days and it keeps doing me, hopefully til it’s done.”

Thursday, November 15, 2007

...green with the milk of nine glaciers. -John Suiter, Poets on the Peaks

Today’s bloom, the bleeding heart. Yes, the same thingfor years and years. I walk all the way to City Lights,a real break, purchase two books, Ripple Effect,Some Notes on My Programming, sweat. Big guywith a bunch of kids (field trip?) asks me if I know whereMerchant Street is. I don’t. I forgot. It’s somewhere.One of the girls says she likes my shirt. It’s pink.Wondering if Buddhism is just about sitting. Seems sofrom this book, a nice way to forget about cubicles.Surely it’s more complicated than that. In the air overSan Francisco, flying. Larry will meet me in Dallasand drive us up to the funeral. It was Friday the 13thwhen he died. I was watching Amores Perros. Ginger’sin Oklahoma. Coming down for a landing already.Last time I fly without Xanax. Reading To Kill aMockingbird. Official state bird of Arkansas.Easter tomorrow. Rebirth. Renewal. Allfour of us, dressed to the nines in the front yard,the 1970s, tulips, Sunday School, bright as spring.

Friday, November 02, 2007

I must be dying. That’s howI prefer to explain it. It’s myalternate reality, so I can.Prosecutors want ParisHilton in jail. It’s true,he’s allergic to paper.There’s only happiness at stake and I’ll do anything to be more universal. Freaked outAnders becomes Dad,same lips and forehead,something stern about both,and I can’t tell if the severityis about to shatter with rageor laughter. Last night Dodie Bellamy and Michelle Tea walking all over the China Basin and then Tony’s Cable Carfor the ultimate veggieburger showdownand The Contenderproving Joan Allenthe greatest actress alive. Dip into a lap poolpoor as fuck owing IRS$2200 realize swimmingisn’t for me. Universal indeed.

Thursday, November 01, 2007

“Getting shot hurts.” Yeah, may you rest in peas RR.I need a stick of gum. Yesterday withAnne Waldman, Bill Berkson, Barbara Guest,Dick Gallup, Ron Padgett, and Kenward Elmsliehumbling. Then Alice took the stage andfilled the 80s “with Madonna’s piss.”We ate it all up. So I’m having some issuesputting it into words; have to nudge thatgently into a poem.